Something More (10 page)

“I’m sorry.” He nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not your fault; it’s not like you started that rumor.” She shrugged and turned back toward the city lights. He cringed at the thought of her reaction to his next words.

“Actually,” he began. She whipped around to face him, suddenly knowing what he was about to say.

“Unbelievable. You are absolutely unbelievable!” She stomped toward the door. He stepped in front of her and grabbed her arm just above her elbow. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her go.

“Wait,” he said. She stood there expectantly, but nothing he could say would change things. He realized that as he searched her dark brown eyes for the right thing to say. Nothing. There was nothing he could say. He let go of her arm and she pulled away roughly from him as if his touch damaged her because it did. She went inside and began stacking up her books. Ethan looked from her, to the patio accusingly. He must have watched the whole scene. Jamison leaned back against the railing simply watching her. Watching as she said goodbye to everyone, as Ethan stood and walked her to the door. Jamison was sure he offered to walk her home, but she shook her head no and left.

Chapter 11

After walking the four blocks to the coffee shop and getting in just before they closed the doors, she got her mocha. She was relived finally to be unlocking the door to her apartment. She entered and locked the door behind her, threw her bag on the floor, and crumpled onto her bed, her face in her hands. The tears were on the brink of tracing lines down her cheeks. She took a deep breath though and went to her bathroom to get ready for bed. She put on the large, man’s business shirt that she sometimes slept in. It was her father’s, and the only thing of his she’d brought with her. He’d died of a stroke at the age of thirty-nine. The shirt was old and tattered; she’d worn it as a sleep shirt since she was ten. She still wore it when she needed an extra comfort even after it had long since stopped smelling like him. She still remembered seeing him come home from a long day at the bank, sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck. She’d run to his arms, leap, land against his chest, and hear the steady thump of his heart. She thought she’d always hear that thump. But life has a way of taking sure things, and turning them to unknown. As she pulled down her murphy bed the only thought she had was that she couldn’t believe the nerve of Jamison. He got some sick, perverted pleasure out of making her high school life miserable. And here he was now at her college, living within blocks of her apartment, in three of her classes, in every aspect of her life, claiming he wanted to make things right, showing her a side of him that she didn’t think existed. Here he was forcing her to think about him and making her fight back the tears that burned her eyelids. There was a knock at the door. She had no idea who it would be at eleven-thirty. She unlocked the door and opened it so that the chain was taut. He had some nerve.

“Jamison, just leave me alone, please.” She began to shut the door, but he put his hand in the way to keep her from shutting it.

“Just let me explain or try to apologize or something?” She just looked at him. “Can I come in?” he pleaded. She shut the door and leaned her head against it, contemplating locking it, turning off the lights, and putting on her headphones full blast so that she didn’t hear him if he stayed out there. But her hand found the chain, and she slid it over and opened the door. He stepped in and surveyed her, her unmade bed. She sat on the bed and looked at him, tired.

“Another chance,” he began.

“How many do you get?” she exhaled, exhausted. This had stopped being fun for him. She was hurting now; he suddenly realized she had always been hurting, and he was the reason. His knees went weak, and he fell beside her onto her bed. She looked at him with concern.

“You’re as white as a ghost.” She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned toward him. Suddenly all he could see were her brown eyes, concerned for him, her rosy cheeks, and her full and luscious lips. He swallowed hard and stared at her. He was in love with her; he might have always been in love with her. And that was why he always thought of her, why the thought of not seeing her every day terrified him. Why he followed her to Chicago and watched her routines a week before revealing himself to her. She didn’t say anything else; she just looked at him, searching his face. He felt vulnerable, like she knew what he felt, what he was thinking; he didn’t think anymore. He reached for her face with both of his hands. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Shocked for a second, she didn’t respond. Then she began kissing him back. He scooted closer to her, pulling her into his lap. He kissed her neck and moved his chin down her chest, popping loose the first button on her shirt. He kissed her chest, her heart pounding against his lips. His hands rubbed her smooth thighs.

She inhaled deeply. Her mind was in a whirlwind. Was she really straddling him; was he really kissing her like this on her bed? Why was he? Why was she letting him? How long had she felt like this? She didn’t know, but right now all she wanted was for him to hold her like this and kiss her like this.

“Last chance, slate wiped clean,” he breathed on her skin as his lips smeared against her. She held his head in her hands and brought his face to hers. She was desperate for his mouth. He flipped her around on the bed, and he was over her. He pulled away from her only long enough to take off his jacket and pull his T-shirt over his head. He looked down at her and began to fumble with the next button on her night shirt with his right hand while her hands tugged at the button on his jeans. Her phone rang in her purse. He froze. She looked at her purse.

“Ignore it,” he pleaded as he leaned closer to her and began working on the button again; the first button had popped with barely a touch.

“I can’t. Who’d call me at this hour?” She began to lean up.

“Please.” He pulled her up against him and began kissing her neck again. But it seemed the spell had been broken. The phone continued ringing. She pushed him off, crossed the small space, and began digging through her purse. She found her phone and looked at it.

“Ethan.” She looked at Jamison suddenly ridden with guilt. “Why did you kiss me like that?” She accused him. Her phone rang again before he could answer her. She answered it on the first ring.

“Hello.” A pause. “I was digging it out. Yeah, I made it home fine. I stopped and got a latte.” Another pause as she crossed the room and sat beside Jamison still looking at him guiltily. “Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and go to bed; it’s late. Um, OK, bye.” She hit the end button on her phone and stared at her bay window with the curtains drawn. Jamison moved the hair from her shoulder exposing her neck. She moved out of his reach.

“What was that?” she asked as she buttoned her top button.

“I don’t know—I couldn’t stop myself. I have very strong emotions for you.” His eyes bore a hole through her. She tore her eyes from him and stared at the curtains again.

“You’ve always had strong emotions for me: animosity, disdain, enmity, detestation, hate,” she whispered.

“I think those were masks I hid behind because I couldn’t face the truth.” He paused and swallowed hard.

“And that is?” she asked skeptically, looking back in his eyes.

“That I’m in love with you,” he said in a small voice. She inhaled sharply. He scooted closer to her and touched her hand on the bed.

“No, you’re not,” she reasoned, pulling her hand away and putting it on her lap. “You might be infatuated with me, but you don’t love me.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, as he scooted a little closer to her. “Because you were so mean in high school. You made my life miserable. I didn’t have a queen bee to be afraid of. I had you. I tried to hide from you, yet you always found me. There were days I dreaded going to school. And now, here you are, and you’re in almost every aspect of my life, dating my supervisor, who, by the way, wow, really?” She rolled her eyes. “And—”

“You’re jealous,” he interrupted her.

“I am not,” she defended, appalled. He closed the gap between them.

“I broke things off with Angela.” He put his hand behind her back on the bed and leaned into her. She willed herself to stand and cross the room, but she couldn’t. She looked down at her hands in her lap. “You should just go ahead and admit you have feelings for me, too. Maybe not love, but we are drawn to each other. You feel the pull as strongly as I do. You always have, the same way I have.” He lifted her chin and forced her to turn her head and look at him.

“Don’t touch me.” She pulled away, finally standing, and crossed the kitchen to put some distance between them. “I don’t know what happened tonight. Maybe it was the nostalgia of remembering our first kiss or pent up aggression, but I don’t love you. I don’t even like you; I never have.” She felt a pain in her stomach even as she said the words. She knew she was lying. She felt something for him, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t know if she’d always felt it because he was horrible to her, but recently she had felt it. He stood and crossed the room not giving her the space she craved so that she could think straight.

“You are in love with me.” He stood in front of her now; he put both of his hands against the counter cornering her against it.

“You’re mistaken.” She pushed against his still bare, smooth, perfectly sculpted chest to push him away. He wouldn’t budge. He pressed himself against her and leaned into her ear.

“You are in love with me.” His lips grazed her ear and sent chills down her spine. His lips hovered over her neck, and he breathed in deeply. “I’m not going to leave you alone either. You’ve made me a better person, and I will prove my worth to you.” Then he pulled away from her and watched her face for a long moment as if he were looking for something. Then he crossed back to her bed, picked his shirt up, and turned it right-side-out. She leaned against the counter, unable to walk. If she tried, she might collapse. He watched her as he put his shirt back on. She allowed her eyes to look at his abs as his face was covered, but they were back on his face when he pulled the shirt down. He reached for his jacket; still, his eyes were locked on hers. He turned, opened the door, and looked at her once more. “Make sure you use the chain; I won’t sleep unless you promise me.” She nodded OK. He turned back to the open door, to the hallway, and just stood there. Suddenly, he closed the door and took five long strides and was in front of her again, pressed against her. He kissed her again. He kissed her roughly and desperately, his hand trailing up her thigh and squeezing her. She lost her breath, and he pulled away and looked at her. Her eyes were still closed, her lips still reaching for his. She opened her eyes and looked at him dreamily; he smiled with the knowledge that she was in love with him as much as he was with her.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead to hers as his hands twined in her hair behind her neck. She didn’t say anything; she just looked at him, her eyes clouded with worry. “It’s OK. I know the truth now. When you’re ready, I’m here.”

Chapter 12

There was a sexy glow to Nyla’s face when she rushed into anthropology almost late. Ethan noticed it right away. She looked hotter than he had ever seen her. He had noticed the same air about Jamison after he came home the night before.

When Jamison had entered the apartment, Ethan still sat at the kitchen table. He waited up for him much as a father would for his rebellious son. He thought maybe he’d gone to see Nyla after she left, but when he asked Nyla if she’d made it home safely alone, she’d said she had. When Jamison came in, he ignored Ethan completely.

“What did you say to Nyla out on the terrace?” Ethan demanded as Jamison walked across the room toward his bedroom. “What did you say that upset her so much?” Ethan pressed after Jamison didn’t answer him.

“I apologized for stuff from high school,” he said as he reached for his door knob. What happened between Jamison and Nyla was no longer Ethan’s business. Jamison knew his days were numbered; he no longer cared about
Ethan’s feelings.

“I want you to stay away from her.” Ethan stood and crossed his arms.

“That isn’t your decision,” Jamison turned and said solemnly. His expression was warning to Ethan, but he ignored it.

“It’s part of my decision to make. I want you out of our groups.” He glared at Jamison.

“We’ll put it to a vote tomorrow,” Jamison said as he went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Nyla refused to look at either Ethan or Jamison, instead smiling at Maddie as she sat down in the seat beside her. She could feel both Ethan and Jamison’s eyes on her. The thought of Jamison watching her made her flush. She dropped her book as she pulled it out of her bag. She quickly recovered it and sat quietly as their professor began his lecture. After class Ethan waited patiently for her. She gathered her things. As she stood he took her hand but she jerked it away. It didn’t feel right, but after seeing the confused look in his eyes, she gave it back to him. She glanced at Jamison, who was taking his time putting his books into his bag and watching her. She looked away.

“Are you OK?” Ethan asked as they walked across the quad.

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well last night.” She shrugged.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked hopefully.

“This.” She squeezed his hand as they entered their Spanish class.

Jamison watched her. His chest ached to reach out to her. He couldn’t concentrate in class and gave the wrong answer each time he was called on. Finally, his suffering was over. Class ended, and he couldn’t stand to look at her any longer without touching her, holding her, and kissing her. He heard Ethan ask her to lunch. She declined saying she wanted to go home to rest. Ethan still looked at Jamison accusingly. They had settled nothing the night before. Jamison knew that, and he knew that Ethan wouldn’t let it drop either. He didn’t go home himself. He found himself wandering the streets of their neighborhood. Then he found himself outside of her building standing there looking up at her third-floor window. He saw the curtains move but still watched, hoping that she was up there thinking about him, maybe pacing, wondering how she was going to break up with Ethan. His phone rang; it was her.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“If I let you up, can you be trusted?”

“What do you think?” He smiled up to see her peering down looking at him.

“I think I should leave you on the sidewalk, but we have to talk about what happened last night. If I let you up, you can’t try to kiss me or even touch me.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“I’m serious Jamison,” she spoke softly but sternly.

“I know,” he sighed as he hung up the phone and approached the door to her building. He heard the mechanical lock buzz and opened the door. He climbed the stairs two at a time, and within seconds, he was standing at her door. It was cracked open. He pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it behind him. She stood in the kitchen holding a coffee mug in both hands and leaning against the counter waiting for him. He leaned against the door and looked at her. Her living room/bedroom was in living room form. She didn’t say anything for a long time; she just looked at him.

“What happened last night can never happen again, Jamison,” she said in the most adult voice that she could muster. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her with a penetrating stare. She continued, “I’m in a relationship with Ethan, and I want to give that a shot. He deserves to have a shot.” She looked down at her coffee mug, unable to look at his face any longer.

“What do you deserve?” Jamison asked, taking a step toward her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, looking up at him in alarm. He took another step toward her.

“You deserve to be happy and be challenged and have passion. You felt it last night, that heat between us.” He took another step toward her. She warned him with her furrowed eyes.

“You and Ethan will not be anything other than friends.” He stood in the threshold of the kitchen.

“I need that chance, if that’s the case, to learn for myself. But I’m asking you, if you have feelings for me like you say you do, not to interfere.” He looked down at the floor, not wanting to hear the rest. She continued, “That means we’re casual friends. I don’t think it would be a good idea if we sit in Wilson’s lecture together.” He began to formulate a plan as he opened his mouth to interrupt her. “And—” She held up her hand as she continued, “We can’t tell anyone about this. It would only hurt Ethan if he found out. Also, we shouldn’t be alone together.” She looked resolved. He realized that she was setting these guidelines up as much for herself as for him.